Last Stands
by tapioca two-step
Summary: The Resistance grows, and the Empire falls. The Almighty Tallest are helpless to stop what one of them had set into motion hundreds of years prior--and who wants a murderer for a leader, anyway? Now it's time for Red and Purple to make one last stand.
1. Ghost Ship

So the other day I stumbled upon a piece of fanart for my past Zim fics, and I almost cried, because I felt like I abandoned my readers when I trashed Last Stands.

So, here's to my readers and gruddlypod, who did gorgeous lineart for Mim. Hopefully I've gotten better at writing over the past couple of years. This story is a continuation of my first baby, Purple Mountains Majesty, and its sequel, It's Never Too Late. They're both terribly written and driven by my emotions, but they hold a very special place in my heart. Don't hate. Anyway, as it is a sequel, you should go back and read them. They take, maybe, five minutes to read. It's not required to enjoy this ficlet, but you'll understand some of the minor allusions to my other stories better, in any case. This work is also slightly OOC, as I am wont to make the Tallest somewhat more capable than they really are. :D

Sigh. Okay, okay.

Here we go again.

**Last Stands**

**Chapter One: ****Ghost Ship**

It was a splash of red against the black backdrop, bright and angry and travelling at the speed of light. Around it hovered its fleetmembers; loyal followers and supply ships that darted around its magenta hull like bees around a Queen as the troop raced through space. The Massive was on the move, and, trailing behind it like red ribbons of metal, was the Irken Armada, hurriedly pursuing the flagship of the empire.

Inside the hulking metal hull of the great fleet leader, Irkens moved about their business in a kind of quiet rush, talking in hushed voices into headsets and clutching computer readouts in their gloved hands. There was always a standard buzz of activity from the Massive's crew, but this kind of hushed urgency wasn't typical; it was almost as if the ship was holding its breath, waiting for a disaster. And, unlike the daily disasters of the leaders spilling their favorite drinks or the occasional engine burnout, this seemed a bit more serious. Until recently, the armada had spent weeks hovering over a recently discovered band of mining asteroids, keeping a hawk's eye on the goings-on of the rock-crushing generators they had installed on the huge masses. Then, out of the blue, the Massive had suddenly leapt into a wormhole-jump and hadn't left hyperspace. The Massive, built for sustaining huge amounts of damage, had just recently been repaired from a rather damaging trip, and some of the ship's engineers questioned its being tested so roughly. However, when confronted about the problem, the pilot and the Tallests gave the same answer: "It's all good."

Currently, the bridge of the Massive was the most active section of the ship, filled with almost every available engineer and secondary pilot that could be scrounged together from other craft in the Irken fleet. The raised platform, rising up from the spaghetti of exposed wires that connected the computer mainframes together, was currently occupied by a heavy-lidded Irken in a dark robe with golden hoops hanging from his antennae. He was holding a paper-thin computer screen and conversing quietly with a dark-eyed Irken who was towering over him.

Almighty Tallest Purple, minus his hoverskirt and looking very comfortable in a sleek flight suit, stretched his good arm over his head, casting a quick glance out of the huge window that exposed the vacuum of space to the bridge. The stars seemed to bend away from the Massive's impressive speed; they were mere flecks of light being pushed aside by the huge flagship in its ever-quickening pursuit. He felt sympathy for how hard he and Red were driving the Massive's crew, but they had received some dire news and had to get to the scene as quickly as possible. Of course, it was Red who had given the order, and Purple didn't know exactly what his motives were. All he knew was that there was some sort of rebellion on Mamir, and they were headed there to quell the uprising with an iron Irken fist.

The smaller Irken at his side noticed that Purple was staring off into space—literally. He bowed his head respectfully and cleared his throat. "My Tallest."

Purple lowered his arm and yawned. "I'm sorry, Nim, I'm just tired, is all. Tell me more about this fuel efficiency problem."

The blue-eyed advisor turned his attention back to the screen in his hands, his three fingers tapping expertly on the smooth screen. He was opening his mouth to report the news when the door to the bridge hissed open and a loud voice called out from behind them: "We have a problem!"

Purple and Nim turned simultaneously to face Tallest Red, who, likewise, had doffed his ceremonial hoverskirt and was in a zippered flight suit that matched his crimson eyes. He carried a handful of papers in one hand and some sort of iced confectionary in the other.

"Here, Purple, I got you a snack," Red said as he shoved the pastry into Purple's left hand. Purple's eye twitched when he saw that there was a huge bite mark in the dessert. "Thanks."

Red had thrown the papers onto Nim's computer, causing him to blink in surprise. He lifted his head; the rings on his antennae clicked together. "What is this all about?"

"We just intercepted another one of their messages. The generator on Cyria has been shut down by the native population. Two! Two planets, now, have experienced uprisings against their Irken commanders. And look, look," he said, flipping the pages over to expose more sheets of analyzed information, "I got this readout after going back and tracing electronic transactions to Mamir and Cyria, and they all trace back to—" here he flipped more pages—"that resistance ship from Vort!"

There was a pregnant pause, in which Purple, after examining the pastry, took a large bite and chewed, his eyes lidded. Red looked expectantly at him. "Aren't you going to ask me how that could possibly be, since the Vort ship crashed and burned? Hm?"

Purple swallowed and decided to humor his partner. "How could that possibly be, Tallest Red?"

Red snatched the paper's away from Nim, who was thoroughly confused, but did not say a word. "They rebuilt it! They rebuilt the entire ship from the framework out! That takes skill, and that takes workers, which we didn't know they had—but we do now, and that's good for us. So, by using simple logic—"

"Which I didn't think you possessed—" Purple muttered, but Red continued without acknowledging him.

"—we can see that the Resisty, as they want to be called, have the manpower and the supplies to rebuild an entire flagship in the span of less than three years. They're probably using an underground system of communications—something they didn't think we could track easily—to get their grubby little hands on the machine parts and the labor force."

Nim quietly interrupted. "So is that why we're rushing through space to get to our unknown destination?"

Red turned to the panoramic window and pushed his lower lip out. "It's all part of the plan," he said mysteriously, narrowing his eyes. Purple shot him a skeptical glance.

"If you want to be like that," he said, "why don't we sit down and actually formulate a plan first? I would think that triangulating the location of the Resisty's base of operations would be a little more logical, wouldn't you think? That way we can nip the problem in the bud, and take care of the rebelling planets are our leisure. Besides, all of this rushing around is damaging the Massive. Nim here was telling me that we're leaking fuel. At this rate we'll have to stop the ship for repairs in a matter of weeks, and we just finished patching it up after your last romp around the galaxy."

Red looked down at Purple's crippled right arm. Yes. It had been quite a…romp.

"In any case," Red said, coming quickly out of his reverie, "we're halfway Mamir. We should pull out of hyperspace now."

The pilots heard the order, and, one by one, each of the engines were powered down. The incessant roaring and throbbing of the engines that had filled the ship since the wormhole jump ceased to a low, dull hum; each crewmember of the Massive felt a huge braking sensation, as if they were being pushed forwards by a heavy hand. The stars in the window slowed and became pinpricks of white; a few vootcruisers and supply ships passed in front of the window, throwing large shadows on the bridge's control panels.

Red put his hands on his hips, utterly pleased with himself. "Well, that went better than I expected! This ship is perfectly sound—good braking, everyone, good job. See, Purple, there was nothing to worry—"

Multiple alarms rent the air. Red's face fell. Purple stifled a smirk and raised his voice. "Computer, define the malfunction."

Holographic screens flickered to life, floating in the air above the platform. One screen depicted a skeletal view of the Massive; at least ten different subscreens outline the Massive's computer failures and engine difficulties.

Red's eye twitched.

Purple rested his hand on Red's shoulder. "I'm off to the engine room, I guess. I think we can fix these problems in a matter of days. Until then, lay off the need for speed, all right?"

Red muttered something under his breath. Purple let his arm slip from his shoulder and turned to Nim. "Advisor Nim, I think perhaps we should check on this together. You do have more mechanical knowledge than me."

Nim tucked his computer under his arm. "You're treating me like a mechanic," he said sullenly. "I was not hired to fix Red's mistakes—"

"Come on, Advisor Nim, no need to point fingers," Purple said amiably, guiding the Advisor out of the room by pulling none too gently on the hood of his robe. They both disappeared through the doorway. Red watched the two leave, then turned his attention back to the flashing holograph of the Massive. He put his chin in his hand and sighed, flattening his antennae. For being a top-of-the-line model, this ship was giving him a hell of a lot of problems.

"Tallest Red," the chief communications officer called from his console, "we're being hailed by one of the fleetcraft."

"Eh," Red grunted. "Well, patch 'em through."

The officer's fingers danced over the keys, and the holographic communications window flickered to life in front of the window to the outside world. The screen was fuzzy for a moment, and then an Irken commander appeared on the screen, in full uniform. He saluted crisply.

"My Tallest, I have urgent news from the rear division."

Red picked at one of his teeth with a thin forefinger, waiting for the commander to volunteer the information. When he didn't say anything, the Tallest sighed impatiently. "WELL?"

Startled, the commander saluted again. "R-right, my Tallest! I have just gotten word from my division that an unknown craft exited hyperspace even as we were powering down our engines. It seems that this vehicle has been following us for a while, and we never realized that it was tailing us. I'm sorry that we didn't report this sooner; it was a great failure on my part. I have failed the Armada…!"

Red snorted. "Stop with the melodrama. I'm going to let you go now."

The transmission was cut, and Red immediately ordered the strange ship to be raised on the bridge. Before the act could be done, however, the communications officer said, "They're patching through by themselves."

The holoscreen flickered again, but this time an unfamiliar face greeted the confused Tallest.

Or, at least, it was unfamiliar at first, but even as Red stared, he thought he recognized those silver eyes from before—from a lifetime before, or perhaps just someone forgotten yesterday. He furrowed his brow, not even noticing that the stranger didn't hail him as a Tallest. He was too busy trying to come up with reasons why the eyes of a dead man were staring at him from the fuzz-hazy screen.

Well, who's this, and what's he got to do with anything at all? Stay tuned, dearest readers.


	2. The Good Ship Lollipop

So I was on this IZ website, and this is the review they gave for Purple:

_"__Purple is one of the __Almighy__ Tallest, the leaders of the __Irken__ race. All he ever cares about is eating, and usually has no idea what's going on. Pur__ple is voiced by Kevin McDonald."_

I had to laugh. :D

Thanks so much to all who reviewed chapter one; that makes me so incredibly happy. I love y'all so much. We'll see some familiar characters in the upcoming chapters, so bear with me!

This story has me really excited, and you should be, too.

DISCLAIMER: Ha, ha. Who do you think I am?

Let's start gearing up for the action.

**Chapter Two: ****The Good Ship Lollipop **

"The engine turbines are shot, and the power cells in each motor have been exhausted to the point that they are nearly burned out. How do they expect me to keep this ship running if they pull shit like this stunt? How do they think this ship operates? Magic?!"

Naz, the chief engineer of the Massive slammed his balled fist into the side of the housing of one of the engines. The metallic rattle echoed through the engine room's corridors. His crew murmured their assent in low voices.

Taking a deep breath in through his nose and sleeking his antennae down with one hand, Naz turned to the engineering team. "All right, folks. Let's get the auxiliary power on. I want a team of workers on the rear thrusters by thirteen-hundred."

The heavy metal door to the engine room smoothly slid open, and a tall, lanky form stepped through the threshold. Disregarding respect even as his team saluted their leader, Naz stormed up to Purple and thrust his finger into the Tallest's face. "What were you two thinking?! Now we have to halt all power emissions in order for my team to begin work on your mistake—which will take days, weeks! What is the thought process that runs through your mind? And Red's?"

Purple brushed Naz's hand away impatiently. "Show some respect, soldier; I'm already in a bad mood. And believe me, we did this for a very good reason. I know the ship, and I know what it can do. That's why I've come down here to help. We'll have it fixed in no time—if you quit bitching, that is."

Naz let out a frustrated sigh. "All right, my Tallest."

Nim stepped up behind Tallest Purple. He was staring, concerned, at the screen in his hands. "My Tallest, I've just gotten a message from the bridge."

Purple looked down. "What is it now?"

"Apparently a foreign ship has hailed us, and Red is requiring assistance with identifying this person. His exact words are: 'I've got this son of a bitch on hold. Please get your ass up here.' End message."

"I'll be right there," Purple turned back to Naz. "I'll leave Advisor Nim here to help you get started. Play nice until I get back."

The Tallest ducked out of the room and began the short walk to the elevator down the hall which would take him directly to the corridor to the bridge upstairs. He listened quietly to the dead weight of his arm thudding against his side. Thanks to a crack embalming job when he was in a state of suspended animation, he was left a crippled leader, something he didn't think the people of Irk appreciated much. He sighed as he keyed the elevator door. More than once he thought of getting it amputated, but that would make his flaw even more apparent. A prosthetic limb would be the next best option.

_Maybe when this tour is over, _he thought, leaning back as the elevator began its ascent. _No telling what __Red'll__ do in my absence, though._

The elevator jolted to a halt, and Purple strolled evenly down the hallway, entering the bridge. "What's wrong? Who are we talking to?"

Red turned around, his arms crossed over his chest. The communications screen that hung behind him was on freeze-frame, so Purple, turning his eyes to see who was hailing them, got a good look at the face of an Irken who he hadn't seen in several years, and whose haunting final words still rang in his head.

"Tell me who you think that looks like," Red demanded. "I swear that it's one of two people that are either supposed to be dead, or are supposed to be in prison. I don't like getting surprised like this."

Purple stepped onto the platform and took a few slow strides to stand next to Red. The pilots in the room fixed their eyes on their leaders, and the communications officer was taken off guard when Red said, "Put him back on."

The screen blinked, and the Irken, realizing that the Tallest had taken him off hold, cocked his head to the side. "You've decided to speak with me, then?" His smiling gray eyes flicked over to Purple. "Aaah, I see you've gotten your friend to come to say hello."

"I wondered if you were dead, Zen," Purple said shortly. "I hoped that you were dead, actually."

"I'm sorry to disappoint, Oronu, and hopefully you'll forgive me for hoping likewise of you. Of both of you. _Actually."_

"You should address your Tallest in the proper manner," Purple said.

Zen's smile widened. "It is the proper manner. It is how you address enemies of the empire. How fitting that he renamed you a traitor with his last breath, hm?"

"Can I get someone to prime the plasma cannon," Red said loudly. The officers at the weapons console hurriedly began the startup process. Zen laughed, shaking his head.

"Oh, please," he said, and with a wave of his hand to someone offscreen, his craft de-cloaked and shimmered into view of the front window. A hushed murmur ran through the crew's ranks.

Red took a slight step back at the view, and turned, disbelieving, to his co-ruler.

"You have _got _to be kidding me."

What the Tallests and the crew were facing was an exact replica of their own flagship.

They were facing down another Massive.

"And by the way," Zen said, examining his gloved hand. "I wouldn't suggest wasting any of your firepower on this ship. You must have _some _knowledge of the workings of your own ship, and after the hyperspace jump you just pulled, I'm sure you're in no state to begin warring with a more powerful adversary."

"More powerful?" Red scoffed. "You've got the exact same craft as us, you idiot. Don't get cocky."

"Oh, I very well know it _looks _the same, but I'd be rather stupid if I didn't make improvements in the blueprints where improvements are needed. Your 'snack pods', for instance. There's no use for such trivial things on this ship, so I did away with them. Our armor is stronger. Our engines are faster. Our ship is _better, _and you should have been more thankful to your friends on Meekrob for designing those wonderful blueprints. Something has to haul your sorry asses around, and this is a very comfortable way to travel."

Red grit his teeth together, but Purple wasn't fazed…much. "What are you planning to do, Zen? Do you want to kill us? If your father failed so miserably, what do you think you'll achieve? We have the entire Armada behind us. You fire one shot, and we'll respond with a thousand."

Zen fingered the silver ring on a chain around his neck. "Of course I want to kill you. But this requires finesse. I just wanted to give you a heads-up—for now. The resistance is growing. Your reign will be cut down quite soon—sooner than you expect."

"If I had a doughnut for every time someone said that—" Red muttered, but Purple elbowed him in the stomach. "Where did you get the blueprints for the Massive, Zen?"

Zen laughed. "Expecting me to give away trade secrets, hm? I'm sorry, Oronu, but that's classified information."

He turned his head over his shoulder. "Prepare the engines for hyperspace." When he turned back to the two Tallests, his mouth was turned upwards in a quirky smirk. "I will give you a piece of advice, though. You shouldn't oppress the little guys."

And with that, the transmission was cut. The Massive in front of them flickered and then disappeared, as if it was never there to begin with. The loud roar of engines then filled the room, and, in a flash of blue light, Zen and his followers were gone.

Red and Purple were left staring at the black void of space, with a fully confused crew looking expectantly at their leaders.

"Well," Red sighed. "Do you mind telling me exactly what just happened? Because I'm rather confused, myself, and I'd really like to know what the hell just went on."

"Can we please get a communications link with Meekrob," Purple asked, rubbing his eyelids this his hand. "I want an answer for how blueprint information was leaked like that."

Then, he stopped. The little guys…?

"Zim?"

Red froze. "You're kidding me."

"It makes sense. He managed to remotely take control of the Massive—"

"My stomach still hasn't recovered from that—"

"—but I wouldn't see any reason why he'd stoop to such a low level to get that kind of information."

Red looked at his partner. "Revenge?"

Purple sighed. "Revenge. Right."

The bridge became very quiet. "I'm going to go see how the engine room group is doing," Purple said suddenly, and he turned to leave. Red reached out and grabbed his elbow, yanking him backwards.

"What's all this about Zen calling you 'oronu'?" he hissed in Purple's ear. "If my Old Irken is correct, that means 'traitor'. You haven't done anything wrong that I should know about—have you?"

"Not recently," Purple mused. "Except for emptying the snack pods to make for lighter travelling."

Red's jaw dropped. Purple tugged his arm out of the other Tallest's grip and ran out of the room before Red could throw a temper tantrum.

…Oronu.

Traitor.

He felt choked by the irony.

…

Well, folks, that's it for chapter two. How about reviewing? It makes me very happy. I know it was short, but I've got a break from school coming up, and that's when I'll get the actual chapters that matter out of the way. Keep reading, keep reviewing, and stay safe!


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